


The Visitors

by BlackAcre13



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Confusion, Depression, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love/Hate, Reaction, Song Lyrics, cursing, mental health, trigger warning, voice inside your head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAcre13/pseuds/BlackAcre13
Summary: “He broke us!” She screamed, unsure who she was yelling to. It was only her now. It would only be her now. “We’re broken. We’re fucking broken.”Her eyes were blazing, her chest tight. She was tearing books off of the bookshelf and casting them onto the floor, not a care or thought in her mind. Ripping down the map of New York City. Throwing packs of cards and poker chips at the wall. Snapping each record over her knee with rage.This she could break. This she could control. This she could be angry with.(Lou's reaction after Debbie is framed by Claude/sentencing...again...but with angry/sad ABBA)





	The Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies! I heard this song on the airplane Monday and instantly I knew just what I had to do with it. I don't know what it means that this is what I come up with on a vacation? Please don't hate me! I love my Lou and I hate what I did too!
> 
> Based on The Visitors by ABBA: https://open.spotify.com/track/6xbjYuZ6rneoXLqW8YngPk?si=L0RNllxOQyeq84W0hFA1pQ 
> 
> *Trigger warning for anyone with suicidal thoughts or has had a suicidal attempt//as well as to anyone who hears voices inside their head//anxiety attacks//experiences with alcoholism*

Lou doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting on the floor of the tub. The water has gone completely cold. The leather of her pants is like a second skin now, thighs soaked against the leather as if glued. White t-shirt completely drenched and transparent. Hair heavy with water. Bangs in her eyes. Eyeliner dripping down her cheeks.

 

The tears burn. Her eyes burn. Her throat burns.

 

She watches the blood trickle off her knuckles and scurry in swirls of water towards the drain.

 

She can’t remember the last time she cried like this. How the fuck had all this happened?

 

_Guilty. Six years. Chance for parole._

_Guilty. Six years. Chance for parole._

_Guilty. Six years. Chance for parole._

 

Lou felt around blindly for the bottle of scotch she’d left lying on the rug outside the tub. She gripped it with slippery hands and took a swig from it, the burn of the scotch not helping her already fiery throat as she swallowed.

 

_“I’m doing this for us, baby. It doesn’t mean anything I swear.”_

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This shouldn’t have happened. Lou shouldn’t have ever let her leave.

 

“I should have begged her to stay.” Lou whispered to nobody.

 

_“Just get out!” Lou screamed, throwing a beer bottle at the wall so she wouldn’t lash out and hit her instead. She couldn’t do that. She never would let herself, no matter how angry._

_“Jesus, Lou. Calm down.”_

_“Calm down?” Lou laughed bitterly, “Oh honey, I’ve barely gotten started. You think I wouldn’t notice this?” She slammed the tuxedo jacket on the kitchen countertop. “Funny, I don’t remember being a size 43. Perhaps you know someone who is.”_

_There was nothing but silence in response._

_“I swear to god—I just—you know what. It would be one thing if you tried to deny it. Tried to say anything. But you can’t even give me that. Just get the fuck out.” Lou yelled._

 

It would be simple enough, she thought, to let her head slide just slightly further down the wall. To let the tub fill up. Let the cool water float towards her and coat her lips, her nose, her eyes. Let herself be fully submerged in the water. Let herself sink. Let herself drown.

It would only take a few minutes. She wondered if she would even feel the pop of her lungs at the lack of oxygen. If she would feel it. If she would know.

 

_She rolled down the sleeve to cover her wrist. What if next time I did it differently? If I sliced along my veins instead? Then I wouldn’t have to see him anymore. I wouldn’t have to go to school anymore. Nobody would care if I like to kiss girls. Nobody would be there. Nobody would exist. I wouldn’t exist._

**I hear the doorbell ring and suddenly the panic takes me; The sound so ominously tearing through the silence**

Lou sat up abruptly, sloshing water over the rim of the tub at the sound of the doorbell that pierced through the stale air. Barely anyone ever used it. Barely anyone came to the loft. Not anymore. Barely anyone even knew she lived there now. She had lived in a different apartment with Debbie.

 

Debbie. Lou breathed in the thought of her and felt the tears falling again. Shakily, she used her weak wrists to prop herself out of the tub and mustered all of her limited strength to stand. She slowly turned to look at herself in the mirror and let out a loud, bitter laugh. It was sharp and hollow.

 

_“God, you look so sexy in that suit. You shouldn’t ever wear anything else.”_

_“You look so sexy in that dress. You shouldn’t ever wear clothing.”_

 

The loft was never this quiet. Lou usually had something, anything spinning on the record player, or even the crackling of the empty disc skipping on the stand. _Radio silence._ _Nothing._ Lou could only hear the sound of herself breathing. Her heart hammering in her chest. Her stomach growling.

**I cannot move, I'm standing;**

Lou stood in the cold air staring down her own reflection. A stand off. _This is your fault._

 

She breathed. She wasn’t sure if she’d said it out loud or if the evil, accusatory words only existed in her head. Either way, there was no one here to hear them.

 

She bit down at the thought, quickly tasting iron and rust on her tongue. Lou ran a finger over her tongue that came out of her mouth covered in blood. She couldn’t help but stare at it as the droplet slowly, oozingly ran down her finger before falling onto the floor. A single scarlet drop on pure white marble.

 

_“If we ever get out of this place, Lou…” Debbie drifted off in her sleepy thought._

_“We will, honey. I know we will.” Lou promised, kissing her forehead._

_“White marble floors.” Debbie yawned, “For the bathroom. I like white marble.”_

_“Okay, baby.”_

 

**Numb and frozen**

She ran a shaky hand through her wet hair and sighed. She tried not to topple over as she rolled her pants down, cursing and crying with frustration as they stuck to her skin. She walked out of them slowly, as if she’d never taken steps before in her life. The heavy wet shirt followed shortly over her head.

 

It’s only six steps to the bedroom. Just six. Move your feet. Right, left. Right, left. Right, left.

 

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t move. She stood in the same spot, frozen and naked. She could feel the goosebumps on her arms and legs; could feel the cold, water droplets falling from her hair onto her shoulders and back.

 

_“Baby, I know you don’t feel well, but I don’t think I can carry you to our room. Let me help you off the couch.”_

_“I don’t think I can.” Lou groaned._

_“Of course, you can. You’re stronger than anyone I know.”_

I can’t. I’m not. I’m not strong without you. _I hate that._ I’m so fucking weak. _I’m pathetic._ Lou crumpled to the floor and sobbed letting the sobbing rack her chest. Pathetic, indeed.

 

She didn’t know how much time had passed. The sobbing had turned to dry heaving. She crawled over to the toilet and retched, but her stomach was empty aside from the scotch and the slur of alcohols running through her blood from last night. Lou gripped the toilet bowl for support. _This isn’t like you. You’re pathetic._

 

“I’m not,” Lou cried, “I’m not.”

 

She used the toilet bowl to lift herself up and finally stood. _Come on. This is ridiculous._

Six steps to the bedroom. Six. She moved her feet slowly. Right, left. Right, left. Right, left. She managed a small smile at her flimsy feat. She patted the bed to find something to wear and felt silk. _Debbie’s._ Half-angrily, half lovingly, she put the kimono around her frame and tied it tight.

 

_This is all your fault, Lou. Why didn’t you let her explain?_

 

She gritted her teeth and headed into the kitchen. She had to eat something. Anything. She felt like her own stomach was tearing itself apart.

 

Lou found half a loaf of bread on the counter. She opened a beer and took a swig. She sure as shit wasn’t drinking from the sink and didn’t have anything besides alcohol. _Be careful with that. Remember last time? This time you won’t stop._

 

Lou squinted her eyes trying to ignore the voices in her head as she swung the refrigerator door open and found a jar of jam and a jar of peanut butter in the cabinet.

 

She opened the drawer. The row of knives sparkled and shined at her, almost beckoning. _Maybe this time you’ll do it right. Just finish the job, coward._ She inched towards a steak knife and without thinking, her other hand slammed the door shut almost hitting the hand reaching towards the knives.

 

“Shit!” Lou yelled.

 

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck all of this._

 

She wasn’t sad anymore; she was seething as she took the jar of jam and threw it at the wall, glass shattering and red purple jelly slinking down the paint. The jar of peanut butter followed shortly after, only bouncing due to the plastic.

 

Lou let out a guttural scream.

**Among the things I love so dearly; The books, the paintings and the furniture,**

 

Fucking Claude Becker.

 

“He broke us!” She screamed, unsure who she was yelling to. It was only her now. It would only be her now. “We’re broken. We’re fucking broken.”

 

Her eyes were blazing, her chest tight. She was tearing books off of the bookshelf and casting them onto the floor, not a care or thought in her mind. Ripping down the map of New York City. Tearing down the photobooth strips of her and Debbie. Throwing packs of cards and poker chips at the wall. Tearing Debbie’s favorite blanket in two like an animal. Knocking the record player to the ground. Snapping each record over her knee with rage.

 

This she could break. This she could control. This she could be angry with.

 

“I loved you!” she yelled, her voice breaking as she crawled to sit on the living room floor.

 

_“I want to tell you something.” Lou smiled_

_“What is it?” Debbie grinned, pushing her shoulder playfully._

_“I love you, Debbie.”_

_Debbie looked up, mouth slightly parted in shock. She said nothing._

_“I love you,” Lou repeated, “More than anything.”_

_Debbie nodded and kissed her; but never answered. She kissed her; never answered._

 

“I love you.” She whispered.

 

_Guilty. Six years. Chance for parole._

 

_“Jesus, Lou. Calm down.”_

 

_This is your fault. You’re pathetic._

**Help me.**

Lou found herself sobbing on the floor again, albeit now surrounded by broken records and books with their spines broken and pages torn out.

 

_“You never answered me. Vegas. Are you in?”_

_“Of course. I’m your ride or die, baby.”_

Lou felt like she was running out of air which caused her to panic more. Panting, she gripped at the floor, her sweaty palms unable to hold onto anything tangible. She wanted to peel her skin off. Everything was too tight. Too hot. Too restrictive.

 

_Let me out. Let me out._ _Out of what?_

 

She was clawing at her chest and throat as if she could carve a release for the air out of her chest.

 

_I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Help me._

**The signal's sounding once again and someone tries the door-knob.**

Lou had apparently fallen asleep on the ground having a panic attack. The knock on the door put her on edge. She heard them trying to turn the knob anxiously. The knocking went off again more urgently.

 

“Lou? Are you in there? Can you hear me? Shit. Lou?” The knocking continued incessantly.

 

_Tammy._ Lou recognized the voice. She didn’t want Tammy to see her like this. But she couldn’t stand the knocking.

 

She crawled towards the couch and picked a bottle of liquor up off the coffee table. She started nursing it like a baby with a bottle, desperate to distract herself from the knocking, from her thoughts, from everything.

“Jesus, Lou. I know you’re fucking in there.”

 

Lou winced. Tammy rarely ever cursed. She was really concerned. And angry?

 

The knocking and yelling got quieter. The bottle was empty. Lou was exhausted. She pushed her back against the couch and leaned her head back. _Debbie, Debbie, Debbie._

Lou was asleep clutching the bottle to her chest. She didn’t hear Tammy slide down against the door letting out quiet tears terrified that Lou would do something to herself. That she already had.

**None of my friends would be so stupidly impatient; And they don't dare to come here anymore now.**

Lou woke up to a pounding migraine. She breathed against her hand and wrinkled her nose at the smell of alcohol on her breath.

 

_I need a fucking cigarette._

 

Lou stumbled to get up, groaning at the dizziness. She stumbled into her bedroom and grabbed a dirty t-shirt and jeans off the floor to put on. She stepped into a pair of combat boots, not bothering to find a pair of socks.

 

She grabbed one of her leather jackets and stuffed some cash inside the pocket with her keys.

 

She almost tripped over the casserole dish on her door step from Tammy.

 

“God, Tam Tam, it’s not like someone died!” Lou murmured. _But hadn’t she?_

 

Lou slid the dish into the apartment with the toe of her boot. There was no note or anything and Tammy hadn’t left a voicemail, so Lou slammed the door behind her and stumbled down the steps and outside to the corner market.

 

A handle of scotch in one arm and whiskey in the other, Lou walked slowly down the street repeatedly trying and cursing to light the cigarette in her mouth.

 

She stopped in front of a bench thinking the issue was trying to multitask. _But she hated standing still._ That helped successfully light the cigarette, however.

**But how I loved our secret meetings; We talked and talked in quiet voices.**

Of course, it was that bench. She had thought it was the perfect sign when deciding to take the loft. One of their favorite meetup places. They always came back to it. When they got separated. When they plotted. When they met for coffee when they started to drift apart.

 

_But where are you now, Deb? I could have protected you._

Lou sat down on the bench and sighed. She could imagine her here beside her easily. Too easily. Her dark brown hair. The chocolate eyes. Her intoxicating smell. The way she would smile and turn to Lou, more than eager with a plan she was ready to whisper in Lou’s ear.

 

She’d wait for Lou to smile. To nod. To give her a snarky comment in return.

**Smiling,**

 

Lou grinned briefly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought about Debbie, about them, without getting angry or upset immediately. There had been more good than bad, she knew. She had to remember it. It was only how it ended. How they parted. But there was more good than bad. There had to be.

 

_I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll wait for you. Come back to me._

 

Admitting it was worse. It was so much worse.

 

Lou shook her head and stood, clambering back to the apartment. She locked the door and strung the chain of the deadbolt. She took a look around the apartment and scoffed, heading into the bedroom and slamming the door with a bang.

_Remember when we drove down the highway together, hair flying behind us, aviators on, blasting Fleetwood Mac? You finally found the strength to tell me that you love me too._

One bottle gone.

_“I bought you something, baby.”_

_“I’m sorry. Bought something? With money?”_

_“For you.”_

_“For me?”_

Two bottles gone.

_“Just get the fuck out.” I’m sorry. I love you._

_“Just get the fuck out.” I should’ve let you stay. Asked you. Begged you. Pleaded with you._

**Now I hear them moving; Muffled noises coming through the door; I feel I'm Crackin' up**

 

It was bad. It was a horror show. Danny carefully set the door against its frame, now useless after having been slammed into and forced down.

 

“What the hell did you do, Lou?” he sighed, rubbing his forehead and sighing.

 

He stepped over the numerous discarded bottles, trying not to wince at the smell of heavy liquor and vomit.

 

Cigarette packs everywhere. Chinese food cartons long abandoned. Motorcycle magazines. Broken records and torn books. Posters that had been ripped down off the wall. It was a war zone. And it wasn’t like Lou to act this way.

 

Danny did something he hadn’t done since he was a child. He closed his eyes and prayed, before knocking lightly on Lou’s bedroom door.

 

He opened it slightly and could see Lou sleeping, not on the bed, but on the floor. Wrapped in a sheet, tear stained cheeks, even more cigarette packs and bottles on the ground around her.

 

_Christ, Lou. Debbie would die if she saw you like this._

 

Lou didn’t stir as he moved in closer. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, even with her lips barely opened. He scooped her up and transferred her to the bed.

 

He surveyed the room and the attached bathroom content with his findings. Nothing too dangerous or concerning even if the loft was completely wrecked.

 

_Shit._ He suddenly remembered, going back into the bedroom. He slowly sat down on the bed trying to be completely quiet.

 

He slowly moved one of Lou’s wrists out from under the sheet and sighed with relief. Not a single mark.

 

_“Danny, Lou told me something serious.”_

_“Whatever it is, I’m sure you can handle it, Strawdebby.”_

_“Danny.”_

_Danny had never seen Debbie’s eyes so filled with concern or panic._

_“When Lou was in Australia—” Debbie sniffed, “I—she—she tried to”_

_Debbie couldn’t finish her sentence, but he knew. He always knew._

_“What if she tries to do it again? What if she tries to do it because of me?” Debbie whispered. He wasn’t sure if she was asking him the question._

Lou was okay. She was okay.

 

Danny tucked her hand back in and started to walk away.

 

“I’m sorry.” Lou whispered.

 

Danny looked back to answer, but saw that Lou was merely talking in her sleep.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She whispered, again and again.

 

Danny sighed. _Not as much as I am. Not as much as my sister is._

**Voices growing louder, irritation building; And I'm close to fainting; Crackin' up**

 

Lou was going insane. She was sure of it. She could hear Debbie, and Danny?

 

_Just stop. Just make it all stop. Loving her was worse. She wanted to hate her. She wanted to move on._

_Let me go. Let me go._

She could hear voices again. _The television._ She could definitely hear Danny yelling at the television and laughing.

 

Lou reluctantly rolled out of bed and headed towards the door peeking through it. There he was. Probably the closest she would ever get to be to Debbie again. She felt silly savoring it. But it might be all she ever got again.

 

Lou slowly left her bedroom, unsure how to even greet Danny. Unsure if he was even really there.

 

Luckily Danny did the work for her.

 

“Smoking in bed and catching on fire would be a brutal way to go, you know?” Danny laughed, looking up at her.

 

Lou stared back. She’d usually jab him back or offer a sarcastic comment, but she couldn’t even conjure a single thought, let alone a savvy one.

 

Danny seemed to realize this. “Man, I should get all my jabs in now.” Danny smiled, but Lou continued to stare blankly back.

 

Danny did the talking for her, motioning for her to sit on the couch next to him.

 

“Feel free to take some pizza,” He said, pointing to the two boxes on the coffee table. “I’d offer you a beer, but I’m assuming you haven’t had water since Debbie’s sentence was set.”

 

Lou felt a pang in her heart. She hadn’t heard it out loud from anyone besides herself yet and she was still living in denial.

 

“Shit. Sorry.” Danny sighed, turning off the football game.

 

“I didn’t think I had a television.” Lou sighed, putting her head in her lap.

 

“You don’t. I brought it. Didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Glad I did though. Seems even your record player and books are out of order.”

 

Lou gave him a sheepish grin.

 

“Hey Lou?”

 

Lou looked into Danny’s eyes asking a million silent questions.

 

“She’s okay. She’s gonna be okay. We know people inside. They’ll help her through it.”

 

Lou nodded. She knew that deep down, but hated that Debbie even had to go through this. She should have been able to protect her from it.

**They must know by now I'm in here trembling**

“I mean there was one incident but—”

 

Lou was on her feet instantly, physically shaking. Her hands balled into fists. Her teeth gritted. She had climbed over the coffee table and was standing crowding Danny instantly.

 

She grabbed him by the lapels, “What the hell, Danny? Why didn’t anyone do anything. Shit. Let’s go. Let’s go get her.”

 

Lou was running around looking for her house keys and wherever the hell her motorcycle keys might be. She hadn’t ridden in weeks.

 

“There was no incident.” Danny sighed.

 

_What the fuck can you do anyway, Lou? Break her out of jail? Threaten her bunkmate? You’re out of your league._

**In a terror evergrowing; Crackin' up**

Lou froze, teeth still gritted.

 

“No incident.” Danny repeated standing up from the couch, “But it’s good to know you’re still ready to jump into action. That you’re not completely catatonic.”

 

“What the fuck, Danny?” Lou hissed, pushing his chest away.

“Me, what the fuck? Lou. Take a look at yourself. You’re a mess. You’re a hot damn mess. The apartment is trashed. You were sleeping on your god damn floor wrapped in a sheet. You’ve probably been living in that same shirt and boxers for three weeks.”

 

Lou gulped. She didn’t clarify that she’d only made it out of Debbie’s kimono and into her own clothing this week.

 

“Lou,” Danny said his voice wavering, “You could kill yourself living like this.”

 

Lou usually would’ve scoffed. Would’ve called Danny insane.

 

“Danny, I—” Lou stopped. _Tell him._

_Tell him everything. No, don’t. He’s not on your side. Nobody is on your side._

 

“Fucking explain, Lou! How much alcohol alone have you had since the sentencing? How much?”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Lou cried, but it was actually out loud to Danny this time.

 

He crossed the room and grabbed her hugging her so tight she thought her ribs might break. But she needed this.

 

Lou started sobbing like she hadn’t done since she’d first found out, staining Danny’s chest in tears and sniffles.

 

“Shh, shh, shh Lou. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He murmured, kissing the crown of her head.

 

“Danny, I’m scared. I don’t know what I may do if I stay by myself,” she cried into his chest, partially muffling her words. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

 

“Tammy thought you were dead.” He whispered

 

_She hadn’t answered that day. No matter how loud the knocks got. She couldn’t._

 

“She thought we lost you.” Danny whispered, “I came as soon as she told me. She told me so late, but I came as soon as she told me. I’m so glad—”

 

Lou nodded, cutting him off before he could make the words she had thought about fifty times this week more of a reality.

 

_“I don’t care, Tammy.” Lou sighed, staring into her coffee mug._

_“You’re a terrible liar,” Tammy smiled. “It’s nice that you care. Good really. Maybe one day Debbie will wake up and realize what an idiot she’s been.”_

_Lou waved her off._

_“It’s okay to still have feelings for her, you know,” Tammy said quietly, “Everything kind of ended rather abruptly.”_

_“Yeah,” Lou laughed, “Cheating on your girlfriend with a man is a sure fire way to end a relationship abruptly. A decade old relationship.”_

_“Will you go to hear the sentencing at least?”_

 

“I’m still here.” Lou sighed, still not sure if she was grateful or disappointed.

 

“You’re okay, Lou. And Debbie’s okay. You guys are going to be okay.”

**My whole world is falling, going crazy**

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Tammy sighed, putting the car in park.

 

“I know, but I need to do it for me.”

 

“Danny’s tough love got through to you, huh?”

 

“Yeah.” Lou said, faking a smile.

 

“I’ll pick you up at five, okay? We’ll go for dinner together. It’ll be fun!” Tammy grinned

 

Lou nodded. “Thanks, Tam.”

 

She got out of the car and headed up the steps of the church. She really was going to go in. She swore she would.

 

But it was those chairs in a circle. The coffee percolator dripping. The Styrofoam cups. The stale cookie tray. The sad people shaking hands and introducing themselves with pitying smiles.

 

_Get out. Get out of here. Debbie wouldn’t want you here._

 

Lou checked her watch and booked it out of the church, sprinting down the street, in search of a bar. Any bar.

 

One drink couldn’t hurt. Not like she’d even made it to the AA meeting yet. No promises or chips to lose.

**There is no escaping now, I'm Crackin' up**

“If you put her in the hospital, she’ll never forgive you.”

 

“Well, maybe that’s what’s best for her! Doing it voluntarily obviously didn’t work.”

 

“I want her here. At home. With either of us. I won’t put her somewhere else against her will.”

 

Lou’s head was pounding again. She looked around and noticed she was in one of her own loft spare bedrooms. It must have been Danny and Tammy fighting.

 

_How much could one drink hurt?_

_“How did she end up in the fucking alley, Danny?” Tammy screamed_

_“I don’t know. You were the one who was supposed to take her to AA.” Danny yelled back_

_Lou groaned and Tammy panicked._

_“Flip her on her side. She’s gonna barf,” Tammy sighed, “It’s not my fault she literally ran away from the meeting! Do you think it’s about her father?”_

_“You wanna talk to me about daddy issues?” Danny scoffed just as Lou coughed and retched vomit on the street._

 

Lou looked down at her hands, bloody knuckles again. Her arm was bruised too. She winced as she tried to straighten out her back and legs. She felt like she’d gotten hit by a truck.

 

_God, she looked like Debbie._

 

_Lou took a swig._

_Damnit, he looked like Claude._

_Look ordered another._

_He’s cocky like Claude._

_Another._

_Someone should beat that damn smile off his face._

_Another._

_I’m gonna beat the shit out of you, Claude._

_Another._

 

Lou gasped. She couldn’t escape it anymore. If the pieces of her memory she’d connected together were correct, she’d beat the shit out of some stranger in a bar just because his facial hair looked like Claude’s. She had to get herself under control.

_You’re a drunk just like your father. You’re just like your father._

Lou pushed open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway where Danny and Tammy were bickering to each other, about her no doubt.

 

_You can’t escape, Lou. You can’t run away this time._

  
“No hospital.” Lou squeaked, barely aware that it was her own voice speaking. She hadn’t been able to tell who was arguing which side, but Danny nodded in response. Tammy looked gravely concerned.

 

“Lou, I just think—” Tammy started.

 

“I’ll be better this time,” Lou promised, “I won’t run away this time. I’m done fighting myself. I’ll only fight for Debs. I’m doing this for me. Doing this for her.”

 

_You’ve fled the country you live in once before. What’s stopping you from doing it again?_

 

Danny nodded. “Anything you need at all, we’re here for you, Lou. Promise.”

 

_Promises are meant to be broken. Didn’t Debbie tell you she’d love you forever?_

**These walls have witnessed all the anguish of humiliation**

AA was all about setting goals and routines like Debbie’s damn lists. At 3pm every day, Lou took inventory of something she had broken.

 

She wanted to know how much alcohol she’d consumed in quantities and dollars, hoping to disgust herself from ever doing it again.

 

She wrote down a list of all the broken records, hellbent on replacing all of them before Debbie came back into her life, if she’d come back into her life at all.

 

She did the same with the books.

 

Her own walls haunted her. She considered leaving. Nobody knew her better and at her lowest than these walls, but that’s when she saw the “for sale” sign on the club downstairs. She didn’t believe in fate, but she loved irony.

 

How about a recovering alcoholic running a club with a built-in bar?

 

She told Danny she would take care of Debbie’s stuff. It gave her something to do. She packed up their old apartment. She took great care in sorting Debbie’s things and moving them to the loft. She created a new room for Debbie. Built a new home for them. But she kept their things separate. Kept them separate.

 

She washed the old kimono and hung it in Debbie’s closet hoping she’d never be the wiser. But she did slip through Debbie’s chests and drawers and closet, taking bits and pieces of Debbie with her to hold, to see, to smell.

 

_The routines kept the voices away. They kept them away._

**And seen the hope of freedom glow in shining faces**

Danny hadn’t come by since Lou had finally gotten her shit together, but she knew he was watching from afar. He left her voicemails and emails when he would see Debbie and constantly told Lou he was glad she was here and how proud of her he was.

 

Tammy was a constant in Lou’s life because Lou owed it to her to prove that Tammy shouldn’t have forced Lou into healing through a hospital or some other program. She wanted to be strong for Tammy. Show Tammy that she wouldn’t run, that she was here to stay.

 

_If only Debbie could see how well you’re doing._

**And now they've come to take me; Come to break me**

 

The nightmares were constant. The nights were the hardest. It would be so easy to lull herself back into a dreamless sleep with even just a pinch of whisky. A few sips of wine. But she didn’t. And so they came.

 

She cried every night and every morning she woke up dripping in sweat, needing to take a cold shower to start the day. She hadn’t used a comforter in weeks. She could barely use a sheet. Everything was too hot, too clingy.

 

_The demons she had forced away in the sunlight came crawling back into her head every night._

_Seeing Debbie stabbed in her cell._

_Seeing Debbie beat up in the yard._

_Seeing Lou herself throwing the beer bottle at Debbie’s head instead of the wall. Never putting her hand down and slapping Debbie instead._

_You’ll never escape. You’ll never escape._

**And yet it isn't unexpected; I have been waiting for these visitors**

 

She hated herself for doing it, but she couldn’t stop. If the nightmares only came when she was alone and waiting, she couldn’t be alone and waiting anymore. She couldn’t dull them with alcohol. So, she dulled them with the only thing she could think of. The only thing where she was in control: sex.

 

_“What are you drinking?”_

_“I’m not.”_

_“Come on, I’ll buy you something.”_

_“It’s tonic water with a lime. I can’t drink.”_

_“Wanna tell me about it?”_

_No._

She hated what she was doing to herself. To any possibility of a future with Debbie.

 

_“Take your hair down.” Lou demanded._

_“Okay,” She giggled, “What should I call you?”_

_“I don’t care.”_

_“What do you want to call me?” the girl breathed._

_“Debbie.”_

_Debbie. Debbie. Debbie._

 

But it was never Debbie’s hair she ran her fingers through. Never her lips that she kissed. She never screamed her name because she wouldn’t let anyone reciprocate what she’d done for them. She couldn’t lose control. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t let her guard down. She wouldn’t give in to those urges.

 

_I just want the monsters to go away. Help make them go away,_

**Help me**

 

If she could make it through the alcohol, she could make it through the cigarettes.

 

The Nicorette gum wasn’t the same. The cans of coca cola weren’t the same. But she loved doing the books. She loved watering down the vodka. Being her own boss. Having people on her pay bill to clock in and out. Enjoying the quality and value of the alcohol without drinking the alcohol.

**Now I hear them moving; Muffled noises coming through the door.**

**I feel I'm Crackin' up.**

Lou nervously played with the lighter Debbie had given her, burning her fingers and rubbing them raw switching it on and off and on and off.

 

_The door is locked. The chain is on. No one is coming through the door. You’re alone. You’re safe._

**Voices growing louder, irritation building; And I'm close to fainting.**

**Crackin' up.**

_It doesn’t matter. The enemy is you._ Shut up. _The enemy is you. The problem is being alone._

“Just let me sleep, damnit! Let me fucking sleep, please.”

**They must know by now I'm in here trembling; In a terror evergrowing.**

**Crackin' up.**

_You’re my ride or die._

_Just get the fuck out._

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

_Of course you can. You’re stronger than anyone I know._

_You’re stronger than anyone I know._

**My whole world is falling, going crazy; There is no escaping now.**

**I'm Crackin' up.**

_God, Debbie. I’m trying so hard, but I need you here beside me._

_Jlbrd: Where’s the fcking cemetery?? 12pm_

_Jlbrd: Take out a credit line, baby. I have a plan._

**Author's Note:**

> Do you love it? Hate it? If you're confused, you're supposed to be, but I don't want to give anything away here and want to see how your own mind interprets things but happy to explain and answer away!
> 
> Your feedback of this clusterfuck is greatly appreciated (:


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